A Mutant Destiny
by EssentiallyRei
Summary: Mutants are on the rise, and young Tessa is one of them. But Tessa is one of the lucky ones who finds safety at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning where she meets other mutants like her. Is the school as safe as Professor Xavier promises. And what about this war between mutants and non-mutants that is foreshadowed. What is Tessa's mutant destiny? OC with possible romance
1. Chapter 1

**A Mutant Destiny**

By EssentiallyRei

Chapter One: The Difference

It's a strange thing when you realize how different you are from everyone around you—everyone you know, everyone you live with, and especially everyone you love. The feeling alienates you and makes you bitter. You don't understand why you are different and why no one understands. You stop trusting not just everyone else, but also yourself. You turn to the one thing you know for certain: your difference.

My _"difference"_ showed up when I was fourteen. I was already aware of the emergence of others like me—others with differences. Back then I was afraid of them. I only knew so much based on what I saw on the news, what I heard from my parents when they thought I wasn't listening, and of course from the rumors at school. There were so many rumors at school.

Like the rumor that explained why Jimmy Ackerman, a kid one grade older than me, stopped coming to school. His parents discovered that he too had a "difference". For weeks students speculated what his "difference" was. Maybe he could fly; maybe he shot lasers from his eyes. I always maintained that Jimmy had the ability to turn invisible and that's why no one had seen him even when they consistently rode their bikes past his house. Maybe he was still going to school, but as invisible Jimmy.

No one really found out what his powers were, or even if he had a power. Some of the kids that rode their bike past his house one day claimed that his parent's had bailed town; just packed up over night and left, never heard from again.

I was a lucky one. No one was around when I found out I had a difference. No one found out until I told them. And I did tell them, because I had to. I had no way of making the visions and sights from stopping.

Like I said, my "difference" manifested when I was fourteen. I was walking home from the bus stop, a little ways away from my house. I was always one of the last stops because my house was in the woods on the outskirts of town; the school had to get permission from the Transportation Office to put a bus stop right at the end of our driveway. The bus would drop me off at the entrance of a long dirt road, which was technically our driveway.

The small walk, a little less than a mile, was actually quite harmless. When I was younger my mother would walk me to and from the bus stop, but she stopped when I turned twelve. She said I was old enough to make the trip myself at that point. It was fine by me because I felt old enough to make the walk by myself. It spared me a few minutes of humiliation every morning from my fellow bus riders who found it funny that my mom would walk me to and from the end of our _"driveway"_.

I don't know what I would have done if my mom had walked me home the day I found out I was different.

I had been feeling sick that day. A headache had started in my second hour gym class after I ran a couple of laps around the gymnasium. It wasn't too unusual and I thought it might go away after I ate something. I snuck a Nutri-Grain Bar into my mouth at the start of my next class. It didn't help; the headache actually got worse and my eyes became sensitive to the fluorescent lights. I ended up going to the restroom that hour and taking pain reliever. It helped, but not much.

By lunch time I was starving. I ate three times the amount of the horrible cafeteria than I usually do, using up three days worth of lunch money. I knew something was wrong with me when I even ate the mystery meat as my third helping. My friend Lucy Stakes said I looked like Goku from Dragon Ball Z devouring every bit of food in sight. I didn't know what she meant by that. My bob did _not_ stick upward like Goku's hair.

I felt abnormally adrenalized for the next four hours. I blew through my math test like it was a big-hit teen novel. I spent the rest of the hour tapping my pencil on my desk until the teacher glared at me with a twitch in her eye. She probably didn't say anything because I was usually one of the quiet students; not disruptive at all. Yet, that day I found that movement and distractions subsided my headache. The more I moved, the less my eyes and head hurt. The more I made or listened to noise, the more I was distracted from the hurt.

However, Ms. Sajack the math teacher did pick up my test and started grading it before looking at any of the other papers. She looked disappointed when she couldn't scribble an F or a D at the top, I had annoyed her that much. It was an –A; she told me at the end of the class before I bolted out the door with unnecessary enthusiasm.

On the bus ride home I sat next to Hazael Nanders. He kept talking about the new set for Magic the Gathering coming out, but I was hardly paying attention. My head was humming and I kept tapping my feet, or jumping up when he said my name a couple of times. I felt like I was a ticking time bomb. It was a relief but also a disappointment when the bus reached his stop. He was gone so I didn't have to listen to him anymore, but he was also gone so didn't have a distraction from my headache anymore.

I was holding my head by the time the bus reached my stop. The bus driver might have asked me if I was okay as I stepped off the bus, but I don't remember clearly. I only held my humming head and started down the dirt road.

I don't know how long I walked for, but eventually I felt my head explode. Not literally, but with visions. I started seeing things in front of me that weren't in front of me. Like the woods rushing by like I was running through them low to the ground, like I had shrunk. Or I was up on a branch quickly moving my head in many directions until I fell to the ground picking up some twig. At one point I saw the back of someone's head as I flew towards it. The "someone" looked oddly familiar, but I became distracted by a different sight before I recognized the person.

Now, my father appeared before me; he was talking, but I could not hear him. My mother also appeared before me, nodding and talking, but I could not hear her.

Unlikely as it was, I felt like I was looking at all these sights—my mom, my dad, the woods, the ground, the inside of the bus, the sky for a second before I fell towards a tree—all of this I was seeing at once, and it was like it was with my own eyes. Like I had many eyes.

I tried calling out to my mom or dad who seemed to be right in front of me, and my voice was working perfectly, strong and vibrant; yet no one and nothing was responding to my call. I tried closing my eyes, and the sight of the dirt road did disappear; but all the other sights were still there. I couldn't focus and I felt like I couldn't close my eyes at all.

I didn't understand what was happening, so I did the only thing I could do. I willed my body to run, not knowing which vision in front of me would respond. I kept running, feeling my body move—the movement made me more self-aware. I could feel the dirt under my feet so I knew I still must be on the dirt road, even though I couldn't tell with my eyes, there being too much movement of random sights before me. My feet eventually smacked against something hard and I felt myself fall forward. After that I blacked out.

That was the day I learned I was different. That was the day I found out I was a mutant.

My parents must have found me wherever I tripped, hit my head, and became unconscious, because I awoke on the couch in the living room. My mom was right over me with my head in her lap as she held a bag of ice to the side of my forehead. When she saw me awake she gasped and said my father's name.

"Hank, she's awake. Oh, thank god. Are we taking her to the hospital? What did the doctor say?"

My dad was on the phone; I could hear him in the background asking questions like, "How long does it take for the swelling to go down?" Apparently I had a nasty bump on my head; it was a surprise that they didn't take me straight to the hospital when they had found me. They only called to see what they needed to do.

"Tessa, how do you feel, honey?" My mom asked sick with worry.

I barely answered, mumbling the words, "What happened to Jimmy," meaning Jimmy Ackerman. I wanted to know what happened to him and why he had stopped coming to school. I don't know why I thought it had anything to do with me and what had just happened.

"Oh, no! Hank, she doesn't know what she's saying," my mom panicked. "I think she has a severe concussion. We need to get her in the car right now and take her to the hospital."

My mind had started to race with my own kind of worry, because I knew what was wrong with me. Especially as I stared at Mom, but I could also see through my mom's eyes as she stared at me. I could see myself through my mom's eyes. It was a horrible and dreadful thing being able to see the realization on my own face—the realization that I could see through other people's eyes like they were my own; but there I was, wide-eyed and fascinated that I was able to see myself through my mom.

Thinking back, I wish I could have slapped that fourteen year-old me, because the next words out of my mouth were, "I'm a mutant."

My mom froze and stared down at me with horror. After a moment of blinking at me, and I at her, she said, "No," with a whisper. "You've hit your head. That's all. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Mom," I said firmly, staring at myself with my mom's eyes as I said it, watching my mouth move as the words, "I am most definitely a mutant," came out.

"No," she said more angrily. "This isn't funny, Tessa. You could be seriously injured right now. Quit joking around."

There wasn't much else to say but, "And what if I'm right? What if I am a mutant? Are you and Dad going to take me to the hospital where they'll find out? And when they do, they'll micro-chip me, maybe even lock me up, and then tell the news. Everyone will know. The face of your daughter will be on the news like a criminal's. Do you want that to happen, Mom?"

My face as I said these things surprised me. It remained calm. Watching me through my mom's eyes seemed to help keep me under control.

By this time, my dad was off the phone. He had grabbed his coat and was saying, "The doctor said we should bring her in just in case." My mom didn't move. "Beatrice, we need to go," he insisted as he finished putting his coat on. "Just take the ice bag with us."

"Hank," my mom said softly. It sounded like there was a sob lodged in her throat. "We can't. We can't take Tessa to the hospital."

"Of course we can," he said not understanding. "It's okay. I'll carry her to the car if she needs help." He looked at me. "Do you need help getting to the car, Tessa?" It was when he looked at me that my point of view changed; I could see myself from his eyes now, not my mom's. I guess it was that my mind's focus went from my mom to my dad.

My mom finally burst into tears. This confused my dad quite a bit.

"Beatrice, what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling down next to us. It was weird seeing him move his eyes from me to Mom, again and again. The picture of mom crying and me lying in her lap looking as still as an alerted bunny, was actually quite comical. Thankfully, I didn't laugh. Like I said, seeing myself through someone else's eyes seemed to make me more aware of my expressions, and I managed to remain completely calm.

Since my mom was preoccupied sobbing into her hand now, I bravely answered for her. "I'm a mutant, Dad. If we go to the hospital… who knows what they'll do to me."

My dad tensed to the word mutant more than my mom had. His eyes focused on me more intensely like he was looking at me for the first time. The one interesting thing about my ability, which I was only just beginning to understand, is that I cannot feel any sensory from the eyes that I _"borrow"_—as Professor Xavier described it when we finally had the pleasure of meeting. It is only their sight that I borrow.

So as my dad looked down at me, I could only see what he was seeing; I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. His expression, however, which I could still see through my own eyes, was deadly.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: A Magic Show

"Prove it," my dad said in a cold and challenging voice. "Show us you're a mutant."

I didn't know what my dad expected. Maybe he thought I would levitate something, or turn something like the couch or coffee table into gold—heck, those would be impressive abilities. But I felt like my dad was asking of me was to perform a magic show. Was he even going to believe me if I told him I could see through his eyes?

Probably not; my dad was a stubborn man—one of those see-it-to-believe-it type of people. I needed to show him that I could see through his eyes. Maybe I could pull off a disappearing act afterwards, too, in case my mutant ability didn't live up to his expectations.

_Or if it did…_

I sat up from my mom's lap with such speed that my head gave a whoosh. My mom grabbed a hold of me to keep me steady. She had stopped crying the moment my dad had challenged me, and now seemed more concerned with my condition.

"I need a deck of cards," I replied to my dad, knowing how lame of a "magic show" I was going to put on.

I knew that we kept a deck of cards in the side table next to the couch. My mom was the one who reached over and got the cards from the drawer. She tried handing the deck to me, but I waved her off as I held my head. Where the bump was, it was feeling all tingly. I closed my eyes to try and pass the feeling, and then told my parents to pick a card from the deck. "Don't show each other or say what the card is," I specified.

Even with my eyes closed, I could see in my mind my from my mom's point of view that my dad was not impressed. My mom on the other hand, I could see from my dad's eyes that she was still stricken with worry. She looked like she was going to be sick. I was glad that my "magic show" wasn't going to be that impressive; otherwise she might have had some sort of panic attack.

"We've got our cards," my dad said.

"I know," I replied. I was going to do this entirely with my eyes closed, to get them to understand that I could see what they were seeing even when they were closed.

"Dad, close your eyes," I told him. He didn't. "Dad, I need you to close your eyes. I can't focus on Mom's card if I can still see yours." It sounded like my dad grunted with the inconvenience, but he soon closed his eyes. "Mom, you're holding the Ace of Hearts."

"She's right," my mom gasped. My dad opened his eyes and my mom showed him her card. He eyed in my direction, formulating some kind of suspicion.

"Now, I need you to close your eyes, Mom." She closed her eyes immediately. "Dad, your card is the Jack of Clubs. You can both keep your eyes open now."

"I don't understand," my dad protested. "You're not reading our minds, are you?"

I kept my eyes closed, but shook my head at him. "No. I'm just seeing what you're seeing."

"How long has this been going on?" he immediately changed the pace of the conversation. He was panicked, probably because he thought I had been keeping this a secret for a while.

"It hasn't been "going on"," I answered. "It just started happening this afternoon. I swear, Dad, I didn't know I was a mutant. I don't think I could have kept it secret for that long."

It was silent in the room as my dad stared at me, and my mom looked from me to my dad. The silence and their staring was beginning to give me the creeps when my mom said, "Hank, we can't tell anyone. If anyone found out… Well, it wouldn't look good."

Dad looked at my mom with a frustrated glower. It was the kind of glower that sent squirrels scampering away, but stopped bigger animals in their tracks until they took the time to investigate. That's what I wanted to do—investigate; I wanted to know what my father was thinking.

My dad was unknowingly not in favor of this because without glancing my way he said, "Tessa, you need to go to your room. Your mother and I need to talk."

I was going to argue, but before I could, I felt my mom's hand grasp mine. For my sake she said, "Hank, we can't just send her to her room. She should be a part of the conversation. And she may have a concussion, remember?"

It didn't work. My dad insisted that he and she needed to talk alone, so I ended up needing Mom to guide me to my room. I had fibbed and said that I felt dizzy when the truth was that I was practically blind. I couldn't focus on any one thing because there was too much I was seeing, so I needed a guide while I held my head. I was still keeping my eyes closed.

Standing up made the tingling in my head worse. The tingling became a pulsing pain and every time it pulsed, more sights flashed before me. It was like I was an antenna and when I stood up I began picking up more channels. Too many channels. But when I was lying back down with a new bag of ice on my head, it seemed to help the reception.

Before my mom left me lying on my bed, she made sure I had a newly filled bag that I was to hold to the gulf-ball size bump on my head. Mom even fluffed my pillows like a nurse while whispering that everything was going to be okay, like I was sick or something. At the time, maybe I believed I was sick. The bump certainly made me feel nauseous.

Now, my dad had to have understood that sending me to my room was rather pointless—I could see what they could see. Not hear, just see. As I lay in the darkness of my room, I came to the conclusion that Dad sent me to my room just because the mere sight of me was angering him. He didn't want a mutant for a daughter. I desperately wanted to know his solution.

I tried to concentrate in order to see my parent's conversation, but there was too much. Concentrating only made the bump on my head pulse harder. I felt like I was getting zapped with electricity every time I tried. I was probably convulsing like someone possessed in some exorcism movie. The only relief was the bag of ice that at least numbed the aftereffect. Removing the bag, sent a wave of needles into my head.

I couldn't tell if they were open or closed anymore, but tears soon welled up in my eyes; I could feel them. The pain decided to increase tenfold as my eyes burned and more sights and lights plagued my eyes. Maybe it was a fever; maybe the tears weren't tears, but blood, but I thought I was dying.

Just as I was going to burst—screamed until I blacked out, or died—I heard, "Tessa, I can help you. Focus on my voice." The man's voice was from nowhere, but it was deep, calm, and soothing. Friendlier beyond anything I had known, but with an enlightening power. I was immediately drawn to it.

"Focus on my voice and relax," he said, and I had no trouble obeying. "I want you to let go and relax. I will help control your ability, but I need you to let me in." It had a healing power, that voice. It was being etched into my mind and I welcomed it.

My mind emptied of everything. Everything became black and quieter—no more sights. No more anything—but it was definitely not cold, and I was definitely not alone. I was warm and the presence of the friendly man was undoubtedly there, holding me and making everything better. I felt like a lost child clinging to the folds of a hero—_my hero_.

"Good," the man said. "You did well."

"Who are you?" I don't know if I had said it out loud or in my mind.

I couldn't see the man—I couldn't see anything—but I could feel a warm smile. There was no reason to be afraid. "My name is Charles," the man answered. "I am a mutant like you. I am here to help."

"Here?" I said in disbelieving. It was probably my worry that my parents were going to tell everyone that they had a mutant daughter that made me panic. Had they already told someone? "You mean you came to my house? How did you find me?"

"It's all right," he said serenely. "I am here, in your mind. I found you using _Cerebro_."

When he said Cerebro, images were projected at me. I saw a round room with a console at its center. I didn't know quite I was looking at, but it became clear in the next instant, like the meaning of Cerebro had been transferred to me. Cerebro was a computer and one that could identify mutants, but it needed a telepath at its controls.

"You're a telepath," I put together, remembering an interview on television where a guy was ranting about how there are mutants that could read minds, or even control them. The guy had said that mutants like that should be apprehended and kept away from the public. He was angry when he said it, like he had experienced a mind invasion first-hand.

"I am," Charles was not afraid to state. I felt his warm smile again. "But I only use my ability for good."

"I've never met any mutants before," I said stupidly. "Good or bad."

"I am sure you have, Tessa," he said with assuredness, "you just weren't aware of them at the time. There is more of our kind than you know."

"Our kind," I repeated back, realizing he was including me. I was a mutant; it was a reality. There was no way of changing it, and in the presence of Charles, there was no reason to fear it. "Can we meet in person?" I asked with embarrassment.

"Indeed," he replied happily. "But first you need some sleep. Rest is important to the growing mutant. You are still adapting to your ability."

"Wait! Don't go… " I pleaded. I rather liked having Charles comfort me. And I didn't want my ability to come back; my head would just begin to hurt all over again.

"I won't," he promised me, and I believed him with all my heart. "I will stay linked to your mind until you fall asleep." As if on command, I started feeling sleepy. I felt so warm and so safe that I wanted to fall asleep.

"In the morning," I heard Charles' voice speak as I drifted off, "We will come visit you."

"We?" I heard myself ask.

"The X-Men," was his answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The White Queen

I dreamt of a mansion that night. It was a wondrous mansion filled with many warm colored rooms, decorative archways, tall windows, and sweeping staircases. The most uncanny of people lived there; some were my age, some were older—eating, sleeping, and happily hanging out. They even went to school within the mansion, learning every subject one would at a normal school, plus more. And the teachers there were special, too. They took extra care of their students, protecting them from the outside world that would do them harm. Everyone was safe, and everyone was happy. The mansion was a utopia.

When I awoke, opening my eyes to my normal bed and my normal room, I was sad and I felt alone. I didn't like that I woke up, but the sun was on my face, working its way through the cracks of my blinds.

The better part of waking up was that the inside of my head, not the outside, did not hurt anymore and my vision was back to normal. I wasn't picking up other "channels". I could still feel the bump on my forehead—proof that everything that had happened the day before was real—but the swelling had gone down significantly. It only felt bruised and sore.

It reminded me of Mercy Grayson's jump roping accident in the third grade. I didn't see it happen, but I knew Mercy had been sped home when she tripped onto the concrete while jump roping. She came to school the next day with a large purple and yellow knot on her head. I assumed that that's what my bump was looking like—the day-after paint job of a bruise.

I was also still in my clothing that I had worn the previous day. I can't quite remember exactly why that was, except that it had something do with Professor Xavier. Yet, now that I think about it, he probably forced me to sleep. I don't mind; I was pretty much a child in need of someone to tuck me into bed.

My first morning thought for being awake was to go wash my face and brush my teeth. I felt oily and I was a little fuzzy on what had happened that previous night. The cold water and clean teeth would help me think.

Escaping my room towards the bathroom, I heard talking from the living room. It was my parents, but there was someone else that they were talking to that caught my attention. The stranger's voice was a woman's and she sounded very level and confident, only making minor comments to my parents' buzzing.

I peeked around the hallway wall to see if I could see the woman, but I could not. She was sitting on the far end of the living room in my mom's crocheting chair. The robustness of the fireplace was blocking most of my view of her. As for my parents, they were on the couch chattering excitedly away about the prospects of their daughter becoming some important political figure. I had no idea what was wrong with them. They both looked completely out of it despite that they were talking in coherent sentences.

"It's okay, Tessa," the strange woman said in a overly friendly tone. "You can come out." I had no idea how the woman knew I was there, when I could not even see her. Not to mention she knew my name.

I stepped out from behind the wall with a wary look at my parents, who both turned to me with matching, beaming smiles, like I was the happiest sight in the world.

"Have a seat, Tessa. I can introduce myself," said the woman.

"You're going to love her," said my mom, pining, but with the same beaming smile across her face. "Ms. Frost is a lovely lady."

I did not sit down, but I did turn to the woman and found her to be perplexing. She was about six feet tall, blue eyes, and wore a frilly white button-up blouse with a white business skirt and white high heels. She did not match my dad's hunting decorum—forest camo and stuffed deer heads. She was a tad overdressed to be sitting in our living room.

"_Ms. Frost_" smiled at me. She was pretty to look at, but I was picking up something sinister behind her crystal blue eyes. Her presence felt dramatic, in the bad sort of way. My parents certainly didn't notice, but Ms. Frost was trying to make a point in by just being there in our house—she's was rubbing it into someone's face, but I didn't know whose.

She stood up and I took a step back. The way she straightened her shoulders made me picture a cape falling behind her like there was supposed to be one there. Thankfully, she did not approach me. "My name is Emma Frost," she said plainly. "I'm the headmistress at a boarding school for gifted students called The Academy of Tomorrow."

"I've never heard of it," I said distrustfully.

"It's a wonderful school," my dad chimed in. "Ms. Frost was telling us all about it. Many of the students come from the families of politicians and business tycoons. But it's not necessarily only for the rich and famous," he added.

"That's nice," I said sarcastically, looking back at Emma Frost. "So what are you doing here, Ms. Frost?"

"Your parents didn't tell you?" she asked with a smug smile. "I talked with them over the phone yesterday. My school is very interested in having someone like you, Tessa, come and learn with us. You would bring character," she glanced around at the decorum, "to our otherwise colorless environment."

I believed the colorless bit. If the headmistress wore strictly white, what were the students like? Strictly wore black and drank champagne from crystal glasses while they talked about how much money they had?

"My parents didn't say a thing about it," I said with assertion. "And what makes me so special? You can probably go to the nearest house over and get Sully Nugget to go to your school. She's an interesting character," I lied.

Sully was actually a large tabby cat that belonged to the widowed Mrs. Nugget. My parents didn't know that I walked through the woods to Mrs. Nugget's house on occasion and shared a cup of tea with her while Sully slept in my lap. I wasn't allowed to have a cat; my mom was allergic.

My parents didn't catch the lie, but my dad certainly got upset. "Tessa, do not be rude to Ms. Frost. She is offering an opportunity of a lifetime. And you are going to take her up on the offer."

"What?!" I protested. Mom and Dad were both out of their minds if they thought I was on board with going to a school I knew nothing about with a woman I wasn't going to trust. "Dad, come on, you can't be serious. Do you even remember what happened to me yesterday?"

"Do not talk to your father like that," Mom became upset, too. This was the same woman who was defending me yesterday when Dad sent me to my room.

"It's all right," Emma Frost said with her smug smile. My parents immediately fell silent. "I think Tessa just needs time to think about it. She doesn't know what she is passing on yet. I have an idea. How about you stay at the school for the weekend; I can give you a tour and you can meet some of the other students?"

I was going to say no, I really was, but something took a hold of me. It was a strong, invisible entity that I had never known before, or knew could even exist. At the moment, it did not feel hostile; it merely possessed me and the words, "That actually sounds fun," were forced out of my mouth.

Emma's already smiling face brightened, which didn't seem possible, except that her smile seemed more genuine. "I'm glad you think so. We can leave whenever you're ready." She continued smiling and waited.

"Let me go get ready," I was forced to say. I really had no control over it. It felt like the invisible entity was inwardly and courteously pushing me aside to speak in my place. "It will take me some time to pack," the entity added through me.

Emma's face now slightly tightened and her eyes narrowed. "Don't take too long," she suddenly changed her mind about leaving when I was ready. Her eyes were sharp; she knew something was up. Maybe I was acting too mechanical, because that's what it felt like.

The entity didn't have me reply, but it did control my body. I was a bystander as my body left the living room and took me to my bedroom. As soon as I closed my door, the hold over my body was released, the invisible entity disappeared, and I could move myself freely. I touched the bump on my head to see if I was imagining things, but the pain of the soreness felt real. Was what just happened real?

I leaned toward my door to see if I could hear anything on the other side, thinking my parents would start talking to Emma Frost again. I heard nothing. It was strange; with more thought to it, my parents had also been acting mechanical. What was going on?

My answer came in the form of a girl that ran right through my wall!

This girl was about my age, but she was wearing a black and yellow spandex jumpsuit with a belt displaying a large black X on a round, red belt buckle. As she came towards me she had her finger to her mouth like she wanted me to stay quiet. But when she saw that I was going to scream anyway, she finished the distance in a dive and covered my mouth to prevent my scream.

"Shhh!" she insisted. "I'm here to rescue you," she whispered. "The name is Kitty Pryde. I'm one of the X-Men." The word X-Men sent a wave excitement through me and I somewhat calmed. "We have to get you out of here," the girl declared. "The White Queen has a mental hold over your parents, but you're the one she wants. She'll take you by force if she has to…

"I'm going to let go, but you can't scream, okay?"

I quickly nodded to let her know I understood.

"What about my parents?" I quickly asked when she let go. "I'm not gonna let that woman control my parents like puppets."

This "Kitty Pryde" didn't answer. She simply grabbed a hold of my wrist saying, "C'mon!" I didn't have time to fight back, because before I knew it, I was being pulled and launched through my dresser and then wall.


End file.
